Miracles do happen (502)

Saranya invariably brought her boy Anil of seven years in the evenings to the park. He would play on the slides and swings for some time and after that, on some days they would settle down on the bench adjoining the road outside the park. She would show him the various passing vehicles and things and name them. The boy Anil could not speak since birth though he could hear well.

 She put him in a normal school hoping he would blend with other children over time and regain his speech. But Anil after a few days refused to go as the other children made fun of him. Her complaints to the teacher were of little avail. As the boy was adamant, her husband felt they wait for a year more and coach him at home in the meantime. They went to all temples and donated to noble causes, hoping for God’s grace.

 As they watched one day from the bench on the roadside, the buses and trucks whizzing by, a boy of six years came towards Anil and stood by his side. Saranya turned to see if anyone related to the boy was around and found none. She concluded his mother must be begging somewhere in the park. How careless of her, she thought, to leave the young child alone on the pavement of a busy road,

 Anil gave a toffee from his pocket to the boy who had nestled by his side.  Saranya was restless seeing the boy left alone to fend for himself with his mother nowhere in sight. She repeatedly glanced in vain on all sides to locate her. Saranya wanted to go home but did not have the heart to leave the little boy just like that.

 As she was thus engrossed in tracing the beggar woman, she heard a piercing scream ‘Amma, amma.’ As she turned around in great panic, she saw to her great shock, the little urchin running towards the middle of the road with a a big bus speeding towards the boy a few moments away. Without a second thought and unmindful of the imminent danger, she jumped on the road and pulled the boy in the nick of the moment before what would have certainly been a ghastly accident and instant death of the urchin.

Only after she brought the boy in her arms to the safety of the pavement, did she see Anil in all smiles. Her heart skipped a beat when she realised that her son had uttered the word ‘Amma’ for the first time. Filled with tears in boundless joy at the unexpected recovery of his voice, she hugged Anil and smothered him with kisses even as the boy started speaking broken and halting words, but words nonetheless.

She firmly believed that merciful God had restored his speech, while the doctor felt that it could be the shock of the very near accident that Anil saw did the wonder. Be that as it may, Miracles do happen, isn't it?

 

Raju’s three wishes (576 words)

Raju had lost his way in the dense forest. He had come along with friends to explore the green forest on a Sunday and spend time with nature savouring its raw beauty in all its forms. Enthralled by the surroundings, he ventured farther into the forest, unaware that he had strayed from his friends and lost track of the path He pulled out his phone to contact them, but his heart sank—the battery had drained.

 Though it was only 2 p.m., the thick canopy of trees made it seem as if dusk had already fallen. He heard unusual and strange noises and was afraid of lurking reptiles. He got scared and started praying under his breath even as he kept moving into the maze searching for a clearing through which sunlight could enter.

Suddenly, as something soft and cool slightly brushed on his cheek, he jumped away, startled that it could be a python from the overhead branch. He could see nothing and moved away quickly.

After wandering aimlessly for a long time, he was relieved when he saw a little yonder, a small bright patch. When he went near, he found to his great relief and glee an old man of indeterminate age sitting under a tree with his legs crossed in Padmasana. He had a flowing white beard and his eyes were closed obviously in meditation.

Raju sat quietly before him waiting for him to open his eyes. Raju was afraid to disturb him lest he get angry and refused to help him find his way out. Minutes clicked past and it was almost an hour and he was still sitting before him. Meanwhile, the weird noises around him grew shriller, more unsettling. As a fly sat on the edge of his nostril, he could not stifle the loud sneeze despite his best effort. The old man opened his eyes and surprisingly smiled at him.

In a soft voice, that was a whisper, he asked “Son, what are you doing in this dense forest? It is risky to be here with wild animals roaming about.”

He prostrated before him and said “Swami, I lost my way here and could not find my friends with whom I came. I am afraid I have strayed deep inside the jungle. Can you please help me get out of the forest?”

“I have not seen a human for several years ever since I came into the forest as a young boy in search of meaning of life. I am not normally visible to others eyes. Luckily you could see me. I am pleased with you. Ask me three wishes. They would be fulfilled immediately.’

“My first wish is to be out of this jungle,” he said

” It will be done immediately after you express your other two wishes,” said the sage-like person

“Swami, I love Swarna, my colleague, very much but she is not reciprocating. Can you make her fall in love with me, please?” asked Raju with much hope.

The sage nodded. “What is your third wish? Tell me quickly for I will become invisible soon.”

“Swami, I cannot believe my luck. Am I dreaming from my sleep’ Raju asked in utter disbelief.

Just then he heard his mother waking him up shouting “Raju, you said you had an interview today. It is getting late. Get up, it is already 8 am”

Did Swarna reciprocate his love? I am not aware. What is your guess?

 

 

The doubtful loan (1190 words)

                                                      A  story for Halloween month

Govindram, who hails from Rajasthan, was Periasami’s neighbour for five years in Tiruppur. When Govindram moved to the southern town, Periasami’s family was helpful initially. He did not know the customs and language of the new place.

 Though wealthy, he never lent money as he was not in a money-lending business. But his usual caution gave way when his wife pleaded with him on behalf of Periasami’s family. She fell for the sob story of pressing need from Mrs Periasami and her assurance that the loan of Rs 25,000 would be returned in a few months. Even after a year, there was no sign of money being returned. Gentle reminders proved to little avail. There was no documentary evidence for the loan given. Being soft by nature Govindram relied only on polite demands for repayment even by instalments. While Periasami did not deny the liability, he always requested more time.

After learning, the nuances of manufacturing and marketing of hosiery goods, Govindram shifted to Jaipur to start his own business. Periasami assured him that his money was safe with him and that he would return in four instalments without fail with the repayment commencing after three months. It was more than three years since Govindram left. He did not get a penny. Though Govindram had lost hope of getting back the money and was reconciled to write it off, he kept reminding Periasami at regular intervals.

Mani, a 12-year-old boy, had come on summer vacation for two months to stay with his uncle Periasami and aunt at Tiruppur. The boy knew from the casual conversations between his uncle and aunt about the loan they owed to a North Indian Marwari and his frequent reminders and their inability to return.

 During this period, Govindram had to visit Tiruppur in connection with a big order he had secured. He decided to meet Periasami to recover the money or at least take something in writing as proof of the loan taken.

When he knocked at the door one evening at 7 PM, Mani opened the door.

“Where are Periasamis? Are they in the house? I have not seen you earlier,” asked Govindram in broken Tamil. Mani could immediately identify him as the person his uncle owed money to.

“I am Mani, nephew of Periasami uncle. My aunt has gone out and should return in an hour or so. What is your name, Sir, for me to inform my aunt?” replied the youngster.

“Where is your uncle? Call him,” instructed Govindram.

“He is no more. Are you not aware that he died of a sudden heart attack about two years back? As my aunt was afraid to stay alone, my parents sent me here,” replied Mani

“Oh, oh, my God, I never knew. There was no intimation too from your aunt. I will wait for her. I hope she will come soon, “said Govindram in a softened tone.

“Please come in and sit. It is not advisable to stay outside here after it gets dark. Can you tell me, if it is alright, what for you wished to meet my uncle or aunt?” asked the young boy.

“They owe me some money for more than five years. I came to ask them to return the amount. By the way, why did you say it is not safe to stay outside? Any menace from stray dogs” asked Govindram with anxiety on his face.

“The threat is not from dogs but something … worse.,” Mani whispered, his voice taking on a spooky tone. Ever since my uncle died, a ghost has been frequenting this house after dusk and barges in loudly even if the door or windows are closed. You can see then things getting scattered as if being thrown about in anger like it’s searching for something,” Mani paused dramatically before continuing,” Aunt thinks it’s looking for someone who owes it something. She even suspects it could be violent from the manner it enters and behaves in the house. After a short while it disappears, though on a few occasions, it has visited more than once the same night especially if there are visitors,” explained the boy gratuitously in great detail.

Govindram’s anxiety shot up several notches. “Was there any ghost earlier before your uncle’s demise? Whose spirit could this be, could your aunt guess,” asked Govindram

“Initially she had no idea. After repeated visits, she felt, from the way the ghost moved to different rooms with ease, angrily throwing the clothes about from the closets, and the way it lingered in the bedroom, it could be uncle revisiting his home. She has told me once that my uncle is visiting fearing the lender or his recovery agents, may cause trouble for her. For this reason, my aunt wished that I stay with her and my father readily agreed as there is also a good school nearby,” said Mani.

Govindram looked nervously at his watch showing 7.35 PM. It was dark and silent outside and he could hear only the patter of a drizzle. He was twiddling his fingers in vague fear.

It was then there was a knock on the door. Govindram started perspiring. Unperturbed, Mani looked through a peephole and opened the door for his aunt Ms Periasami. A relief washed over Govindram and after customary salutation expressed his sadness at the passing away of her husband Periasami.

Shocked, she wiped her eyes with her sari even as she looked at Mani nodding slightly and pleading with his eyes and then turned to Govindram to say,” Nothing is in our hands. We are helpless. ”

“I agree with you there are things beyond our control. I am concerned to hear that you are being troubled by nocturnal visits of a ghost almost daily. Do you believe it could be your late husband, as your nephew tells me? He also mentioned that it seemed prone to violence against those who displeased it,” asked Govindram.

Before she could respond, there was the unmistakable sound of the gate opening, followed by loud, slurred curses. Heavy knocks rattled the door, and Mani peered through the peephole again.

“It’s him,” he said gravely, turning to his aunt. “He’s back. And he’s angry.”

Govindram’s face turned pale. “H-him? Who’s him?”

Without batting an eyelid, Mani said, “Uncle...”

Govindram’s legs turned to jelly. Peering through the peephole, he saw the silhouette of a figure waving a walking stick and howling like a drunk. The sight was enough to send Govindram into a panic.

The next moment, he ran towards the rear door vowing never to return.

Mani opened the door to let a drunk Periasami in with his aunt screaming at her husband,” You worthless man, you have absolutely no shame in not repaying the loan you took years ago and yet squander money on drinking daily. That Marwadi neighbour came just now looking for you. I do not know what Mani told him and he ran away in mortal fear.”

When Mani’s bluff sunk in, all the three roared in laughter not knowing Govindram had tripped at the rear entrance and was lying on the ground hearing their boisterous jubilation.

 

Atul's Tryst with Truth (982 words)

 

Atul loved his Dada ji(grandfather) with all his heart. He cherished every moment spent with him, listening to his stories and conversations. The old man, well into his eighties, adored his grandson. Though the old man had three sons and two daughters, he stayed with Atul’s father the eldest with his other siblings living abroad.

Despite being only ten years old, Atul was a precocious boy and was fully aware that his mother viewed the old man as a burden imposed on her. She despised him and often insulted him for whatever he did or didn’t do.  His father remained indifferent and never confronted Atul’s mother about her rude behaviour. This attitude saddened Atul. He was not aware that this passive role of his dad stemmed from his preference not to upset his wife further in the absence of other options.

Atul’s favourite activity was taking strolls in the park opposite their house with Dadaji. The old man would entertain him with stories from his younger days and often advised him to be truthful, no matter the consequences. Atul, curious and thoughtful, would sometimes challenge him by asking, "What if telling the truth harms an innocent person? Would you still tell it ?"

Dadaji would smile proudly and say, "The truth should always be spoken when it serves a good purpose." He never complained about anyone even after hurtful insults though Atul cringed at his mom’s petulance.

Lately, though, Dadaji had been saying something that made Atul uneasy: “I’m biding my time. I feel it will happen soon. Promise me, no matter what, that you will take care of your parents with love and care, and never make them feel unhappy.”

“Dadaji, I know you’re unhappy sometimes. I am too when Mom shouts at you. I hate her for it,” Atul would reply, his voice full of frustration.

Dadaji would gently admonish him, “You must never talk like that. I’m disappointed with you. Never speak ill of others, no matter what they do or say.”

Atul was often scolded by his mother for spending too much time with his grandfather and she frequently complained about it to his father. No one in the house spoke to Dadaji. Atul’s father, who returned late from work, would spend time with his mother in front of the TV. Dadaji’s room was at the rear of the house, far from the rest of the family. Occasionally, his father would visit him, only to loudly remind him to "adjust to the ways of the house" and "not be a nuisance," though he never clarified what he meant. Atul, perceptive as he was, understood that his father said these things only to appease his mother.

Atul also knew his mother diluted Dadaji’s coffee with water and often gave him leftover or cold food. She made him eat alone at the dining table, much before the family sat down together for dinner. After his early lunch at 11 a.m., Dadaji had nothing to eat until 7 p.m. except for a cup of tea and a few biscuits at 4 p.m. Atul knew his grandfather was often hungry and would sneak cookies from the kitchen after school to share with Dada ji.

 Dadaji had a sweet tooth, but his mother rarely gave him any sweets, even though Atul’s father regularly brought home sweet packets. She would keep them in the fridge for days, only to give them away to the maid later. One afternoon, while Atul’s mother was out, leaving him and his grandfather alone at home, Atul became engrossed in a computer game and forgot about the time.

When he finally went downstairs at 4:30 p.m., he found Dadaji in the kitchen, opening a box of pedas he had taken from the fridge. Atul smiled and said, “Dadaji, you could’ve called me. Never mind, I’m hungry too. Let’s eat together.” They finished all five pedas in the box.

Around 7 p.m., Atul heard his mother shouting at the top of her voice. “Nothing is safe in this house! How can I lock the fridge every time I go out?”

She called out, “Atul, did you eat all the pedas from the full box I kept in the fridge? I was going to send them to my mother! It’s missing. I’m sure you wouldn’t touch it, so who else could have stolen it except the ever-hungry glutton in this miserable house?”

Atul, angry, shouted back, “Don’t accuse without knowing! I was hungry, and I checked the fridge. There were only five pedas, not a whole box as you’re saying. I ate them and shared them with Dadaji. What’s wrong with that? You can call me a hungry glutton or whatever you like, but Dadaji hadn’t even had his tea by then. It was 5 p.m.! I hate how you’re always shouting at him. I don’t want to live in this house anymore.”

Dadaji, who had heard everything from his room, felt tears trickle down his cheeks. His grandson had taken the blame to shield him from his mother’s wrath. A little while later, Atul entered his room and said, “Dadaji, I wasn’t truthful, but it was for a good reason.”

The old man hugged him tightly and kissed his forehead. “Come to see me first thing in the morning, before anyone else comes to my room. Do you understand, my little buddy?” The boy laughed and ran off.

The next morning, Atul woke up earlier than usual and remembered Dadaji’s request. He rushed to his side, only to find him sleeping unusually late. Gently nudging him, first softly and then harder, Atul quickly realized that Dadaji’s time had come, and he had finally found the peace he had longed for.

He could hardly suppress a mournful groan when he saw a small book of quotations lying by his side with a tag scrawled ‘To Dear Atul'  in Dada Ji's hand.

Madhavan and the mysterious ghost (725 words)

 Madhavan Namboodiri, a man in his early forties, was steeped in religious devotion and spiritual practices, his unwavering faith centred on Guruvayurappan. His bachelorhood, a quiet act of defiance, troubled his aged mother and sister with whom he lived. Yet, Madhavan found solace in his rituals, remaining undeterred by societal expectations.

For years, he worked as a government clerk in Kerala, his life following a predictable, serene path. But when a sudden departmental reorganization led to his transfer to a remote town in Chhattisgarh, Madhavan accepted his fate without protest. With a small box, bedding, and a shoulder bag as his only possessions, he arrived at the desolate station early one morning, where a colleague named Mohanty waited to receive him.

Mohanty presented him with two housing options: one nestled in the bustling bazaar area, surrounded by people and noise, and the other—an independent but dilapidated house—secluded and quiet, closer to a temple.

"I'll take the second one," Madhavan declared. "I need peace for my prayers, and the proximity to the temple suits me well. Besides, I cook my own food."

Mohanty hesitated, his face tightening with concern. "I’d suggest the house near the bazaar," he said cautiously. "This other one, well, it’s... isolated. Not to mention, you’re new to the area and don’t know the local language well. There’s safety in numbers."

Madhavan raised an eyebrow. "What’s the real issue, Mohanty? Why is the rent so low despite it being an independent house?"

Mohanty leaned in, lowering his voice to a whisper. "The house is said to be haunted. No one’s lived there in years. People say a ghost roams the place at night."

Madhavan chuckled softly. "I’ve no fear of ghosts, my friend. If they exist, they’re no match for my faith."

Despite Mohanty’s pleas, Madhavan moved in, his mind untroubled by the supernatural warnings. The house, though worn by time and neglect, was cleaned up, and by evening, Madhavan had lit a lamp before the image of Guruvayurappan. The first night passed in peaceful silence, much to Mohanty’s relief.

But the peace was short-lived.

On the second night, after his usual prayers and recitation of the Sri Vishnu Sahasranamam, Madhavan woke abruptly at midnight, a strange heaviness pressing down on his chest. He sat up, gasping, and drank water, trying to shake off the oppressive feeling. When he lay down again, the sensation returned—this time stronger, as though an invisible weight bore down on him, suffocating him. He could feel a presence, unseen but undeniable.

Refusing to be cowed, Madhavan sat up and resumed reciting the sacred verses. Instantly, the heaviness lifted, and the room felt lighter. He continued praying until 2 AM before finally drifting into an uneasy sleep.

For the next few nights, the haunting repeated itself, till he commenced reciting Sahasranama though after 2 AM it did not trouble him. Each time, the presence grew more menacing, the weight on his chest heavier. Yet Madhavan’s resolve did not waver. He prayed with greater fervour, hoping to banish the sinister force plaguing him.

On the seventh night, however, the air in the house felt different. As he lay down after 2 AM after his prayers, the oppressive force unusually returned with a vengeance, nearly crushing him under its invisible weight. He could barely breathe, let alone sit up. Desperate, he cried out, “Oh Guruvayurappa! Why this trial? Please, save me!”

Suddenly, the pressure lifted. In the dim light, he saw it—a pale figure standing by the door, beckoning him with an unearthly but an elegant hand. It gestured urgently as if commanding him to follow.

Madhavan, murmuring "Narayana, Narayana" under his breath, got to his feet and followed the spectre outside. The figure glided through the night, leading him away from the house. And then, without clue, it vanished.

A deafening rumble erupted behind him. Madhavan spun around, his heart pounding. The house collapsed into rubble as if struck by an unseen force.

He stood frozen, unable to comprehend the horror he had just witnessed. What had saved him? Was the ghostly figure the same entity that had tormented him nightly, now turned saviour? Or had it been a divine messenger, sent by Guruvayurappan himself to answer his prayers?

Madhavan had no answers. But one thing was certain—he was ready to move near the bazaar.

 

 

Whose Inspiration ? (840words)

(An old story I regularly read to shore up my faith in the Supreme lord when it is lagging)

 There is a Perumal Koil (temple) not far from my house housing several deities with Lord Krishna being the principal deity. There were shrines for other gods as well. The temple is serene in the early mornings, with the soft hum of hymns, the rustle of devotees moving, and the faint fragrance of flowers and incense hanging in the air. I visited the temple daily in the early mornings and some days in the evenings too. Usually, I stop at the main shrine to pray and walk around other shrines without much pause.

Let me come to the main character in the story. In the last two months, I have been observing an elderly lady at the portico outside the main shrine away from the inner sanctum where the devotees enter for darshan and theertham (holy water). She posed no hindrance to others as she stood in a corner. A frail old lady with silver hair, good looking and in a traditional nine-yard sari worn in Vaishnavaite tradition, she was always seen devoutly praying to God with tears running down both cheeks. Her lips were always quivering presumably praying for fulfillment of wishes. If there was no crowd, I have seen her murmuring as if she was in conversation with God present before her. She would be staying for about 30 minutes and the priests took kindly to her as she caused no disturbance.

I would feel ashamed that I was not getting as much devotion and fervour as her and feel bad that my visit to the temple was merely a ritual devoid of passion and hunger for God that she displayed. There was a sense of inadequacy in my prayers and greater admiration for her. Gradually I grew acquainted with her and would greet her with a smile when she looked at me. Though we never exchanged words, I could feel a bond between us. If I missed seeing her for two days continuously, I would be concerned whether she had fallen sick. In a way, I felt a slight change in me as I grew more devout seeing her and started praying for greater devotion.

It was then that I missed seeing her continuously for more than a fortnight. I was certain that she must have fallen sick. I didn't know whom to ask or knew where she lived. As I was in the inner sanctum one day with none else present, I asked the priest “Are you aware why the old lady is not seen these days? I used to see her daily without fail and her devout presence was an inspiration for me."

The priest chuckled softly and said "You must be referring to Chellamma patti. I am surprised to hear that instead of the Lord Himself inspiring you towards bhakti, Chellamma patti doing it. Anyway, why don't you meet her yourself? She is in the house adjacent to the Ahobila mutt in the same road hardly a furlong away and the door is painted in green colour."

I was hesitant to meet her at her house but curiosity overtook my discretion. After all, I was just going to enquire about her well-being, I thought. The door was half open. I heard a loud noise from the TV. I called "Patti, patti" twice. There was no response as the volume of TV was high. I pushed the door and craned my neck inside. 

To my utter surprise, I found the old lady in a nightie  sitting on a sofa munching popcorn and watching a popular Hindi serial Bhagya Lakshmi on Zee TV. What a different setting from the tearful lady pleading in the divine ambience of the temple to a carefree lady relaxing on a sofa before a wall TV, I wondered. She did not notice me initially being engrossed with the show on the screen. When I coughed to draw her attention, she saw and welcomed me to sit by her side.

"What a surprise! I am happy to see you here. Is there anything I can do for you?" she asked.

"No, I was concerned when I did not see you for long. I asked the priest. He gave me your address"

“Oh, oh, it is very sweet of you to have worried about me. I am fit and fine. I visited the temple daily to pray for the early marriage of my granddaughter. It was getting delayed and my daughter was worried. Luckily, thanks to Lord Krishna her marriage has been fixed. Since my prayer has been answered, I have stopped coming." she said very casually and laughed loudly.

The taunting yet profound words of the priest about my getting inspired by Chellamma patti instead of the Lord came sharply to my mind. It dawned on me that devotion is not just pleading tearfully before God in the temple alone but it is total faith in Him for him to answer your sincere prayers from wherever you are and doing whatever, even before TV munching popcorn or from a secluded forest.

Appearances are deceptive (665 words)

The young woman clad in Jeans and a T-shirt was standing restless at the back of the line at the Enquiries counter in the post office. About half a dozen people were ahead of her, and the clerk at the counter was working slowly and talking on her mobile frequently.. Just then, a well-dressed young man sauntered up to the counter, ignoring the line, and tried to catch the clerk's attention. The others in the queue, though visibly annoyed, remained silent.

“Mister, don’t you see the line?” the young woman shouted. “Please stand behind me.”

The young man turned, surprised. “I’m not here to do any business,” he explained. “I just wanted to inquire about an address in the area.”

She snapped back, “Do you think we’re here to chit-chat with the clerk? We all have inquiries to make. Get in line.”

“Sorry,” he replied calmly. “You could have told me softly. There’s no need to raise your voice. No one else seems to mind.”

Though he spoke politely, he moved to stand behind her. It was only then that she noticed how handsome he was—a tall man with chiselled features, the type who could easily play the hero in a movie. His expression, however, showed no sign of friendliness after her outburst. Regret washed over her; she wasn’t typically rude. The tension from some urgent tasks awaiting her at home must have triggered her temper.

Turning to him, she softened her tone. “I’m sorry. You mentioned needing an address. I live in this area and might be able to help. Which place are you looking for?”

His face relaxed slightly. “How kind of you! I’m new to town. I just arrived at the airport an hour ago. I have an appointment at a house on 3rd Cross, 21st Avenue. Do you know it?”

“Any landmark they mentioned?” she asked.

“Yes, they said there’s a KFC outlet at the corner of the main road.”

She smiled. “That’s just a stone’s throw from where I live. I can take you there.”

“No need to trouble yourself,” he replied, smiling back. “I’m supposed to go there only by 3 p.m., so I’ll grab some lunch at a restaurant first. Just tell me the route.”

“Go straight for about 200 yards, take a left at the signal, and turn right at the third street. That’s 3rd Cross. What’s the building number?”

“Sagar Apartments, number 22, I think,” he said.

“That’s the fourth building on the right,” she said, her voice suddenly shaky. Without another word, she abruptly left the line, hurrying off as if she had forgotten something.

At 3 p.m., Nirmal arrived at Sagar Apartments and was greeted by an elderly gentleman. Inside, there were several women and two other men. After exchanging pleasantries, a well dressed young woman entered with a tray of coffee, sweets and snacks. Her father introduced her, saying, “This is Nandita. She works with Oracle after completing her B.Tech.”

When Nirmal saw her, he was taken aback. Smiling, he asked, “Nandita, didn’t we meet at the post office a couple of hours ago?”

Startled, Nandita replied, “No, I didn’t go to the post office today.” Her father and the others present looked confused.

“How could that be?” Nirmal exclaimed. “You argued with me for cutting the line! How can you forget something like that so soon? It’s amusing.”

Just then, her father called out, “Sharmila, Sharmila!” Another young woman entered the room, and Nirmal's eyes widened in surprise as he saw her. She looked identical to Nandita. Sharmila couldn’t suppress a giggle.

Her father, puzzled, asked loudly, “Why are you giggling? Did you go to the post office this morning and have an argument with this young man?”

Sharmila, lowering her head, nodded.

Nirmal laughed. “Yes, this is the fiery one I met! The two of you look so much alike. I just hope Nandita is the gentler twin.” Nandita lowered her head with an imperceptible nod and a shy smile.